


Overlooked

by loudspeakr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dom!Rhett, Dubious Consent, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Power Play, Semi-Public Sex, Sub!Link, Workplace Sex, uh this is a lot i know, with a hint of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr
Summary: Rhett's got Link right where he wants him.





	Overlooked

**Author's Note:**

> Don't tell me you didn't see this coming.
> 
> Inspired by [GMM 1263.2](https://youtu.be/YzmnKcALBqQ).

The lights don’t turn back on when Stevie calls cut.

If anything, Link’s thankful. Being so close to the overhead lighting rig has meant he’s been on the verge of breaking out in a sweat for the entire episode so far, and with both arms glued down, the prospect of not being able to wipe his brow was about to drive him absolutely insane.

“All right, guys,” he calls to the crew, trying to keep his fraying resolve in check. “Let’s get this next bit over with quick. I’m about to melt up here.”

He doesn’t know whose idea it was to begin the next segment with him still up here, but he’d initially agreed it was a good one, real funny. On paper. Now that it was in practice, Link should’ve smacked the person responsible. That is, if A) he could remember who that was and B) if he could just move his dang arm in this restrictive jumpsuit.

Come to think of it, he feels _hot_ as well, much too hot, and sweaty and nervous and a little claustrophobic, a culmination of this skin-tight costume, the adrenaline from being up so high without any actual safety equipment, and a mounting frustration over his instructions being seemingly ignored so far.

“Guys?” The lights are still out when Link yells out again. With his glasses on the ground, it takes him squinting through the dark to notice his crowd of spectators significantly dwindling. “Alex? Davin?” Stevie isn’t in her chair, the camera crew missing from their stations, too. With his shoulders stuck down, he can hardly wriggle to see where the others have gone behind him, but he manages to spot someone sneaking out of the corner of his eye. “Chase?”

Chase – still every bit as loyal and considerate as he’s ever been – freezes. “Yeah, boss?”

“Where y’all going?”

“Oh, I –” he stops short, eyes shifting to the door. “It’s, uh, lunchtime.” And he’s straight out of there before Link can ask his follow-ups.

Thing is, Link’s never been in the new studio by himself. And though he does like his alone time, this prolonged disconnect is beginning to push him too far. Suddenly it’s a little harder to breathe, he hears the stutter when he tries to take a deep lungful of air in, feels his pulse kick it up a notch. It almost feels like the darkness has grown palpable and is now seeping into his pores, a sudden vice grip on his windpipe. He wants out. He wants out now.

“Rhett?!”

“You wanna know how this segment came to be?” Link flinches in his suit, a voice now booming out through the speakers. He still can’t see anything past the permanent blur of his eyesight, which – coupled with this sense of helplessness – is definitely messing with his head a bit. But he can focus on that voice, as cold now as it is familiar, and use that to anchor him and his riled-up anxiety. So he does, despite the volume having been turned up louder than usual, the reverb sounding just like the microphone Stevie uses at her chair. His suspicion is confirmed when he takes a look at her mic stand and finds it empty.

“Rhett?”

“I accidentally got super glue stuck to my fingers one night. Was putting an old decorative bowl of Jessie’s back together.” He’s feeling a little better now that Rhett’s speaking, though his confusion is giving way to a slow realisation. “I got the idea, gave it to Stevie the next day, and she pitched it.”

“Where are you?” Link asks out into the room. He knows he won’t be answered. It’s dawning on him now with a sweep down his spine, a jolt to his system, that Rhett’s starting something here. They’re playing by other rules here, Rhett’s rules. “Get me down.”

“I oversaw the entire build. That wall you’re up on, the suit.” A squeak of sneakers on the linoleum has Link whipping his head around to spot movement in the shadows of his periphery. Rhett stands from his perch on their desk and begins meandering his way over, taking all the time in the world. His deliberately measured pace is a test to Link’s patience, to say the least. “They asked me for your measurements. Number of times they've made us props, you’d think they’d have ‘em down by now, but they don’t. And you weren’t in the office that day, so.”

“Please, man,” Link asks, not entirely sure what for. Maybe he’s just desperate to establish contact, watching Rhett approach as achingly slow as he is. Maybe he wants this to unravel a lot sooner than he suspects it will. Whatever it is, this being denied isn’t sitting well with him, and he tries to kick his leg out for lack of anything else he can do. Thankfully, the suit holds fast.

“And the wall –” His frustration only flares when Rhett continues without pause. “Why’d you think you’re at the height you’re at right now? Don’t you think it’s a little too perfect?”

By the time Rhett stops dead-set in front of him, it’s suddenly making sense. His mouth goes dry when he notices it: Rhett’s head is perfectly level with his hips.

He’s lucky Link’s fists are stuck down; they’d be thrashing, throwing things if they could. How could he be so brazen about this? Did anyone notice, put the two and two together, when their boss made his odd request? Are they out there now, speculating just beyond the door after being forced out of the room with presumably no explanation? How dare Rhett be so fucking reckless? How could he?

Link’s fuming on the inside when Rhett tilts up to face him, looking outrageously unconcerned. He comes up closer, close enough now that Link can count the wrinkles on his forehead, and smiles like something almost innocent.

His mouth is _right there_.

“And would you look at that?” Rhett does a sweep downward, eyes trailing a blaze down Link’s body hot enough to make him shift in his suit. “They got it _just_ right.”

But Link’s not about to play ball. He’s still in this, still some fight left in him. “Quit fucking around, man. What’re you doing?”

Even with the loaded venom, he hates the tremble he has to fight his voice from taking on when Rhett looks at him like this, so obvious that he’s sure Rhett’s caught onto him. He hates the thrill that shocks through him when Rhett’s fingers start ghosting over his thigh. He hates that _this_ is all it takes.

“Not gonna lie. I almost lost it when you started stuffin’ yourself in your britches.” He hates most of all that Rhett’s still ignoring him. “What was it you said? _‘Push it down and seal ‘er up’_? You tryin’ to kill me, boy?”

Out of options, Link shuts his eyes to the onslaught to come because he knows for certain that Rhett’s not about to stop. Not that he’s at liberty to expect anything at this point. It’s just that it’s been a while since Rhett last touched him, that they last had time to themselves like this. Link’s tried not to let the absence get to him – he’s in control after all, he’s got a hold on himself and whatever urges he thinks he has. Besides, they’re so busy these days, he’s got a lot else to focus on, and Rhett’s always been good at compartmentalising, so Link is, too, out of necessity. It’s a good thing he never got a chance to settle into that cycle of self-indulgent behaviour.

But that carefully constructed façade of nonchalance is thrown out the window when Rhett’s hand flicks up suddenly to start palming at him through his fly. The pressure both a relief and a curse, Link hisses through his teeth and rolls his eyes to the heavens.

“I told you to keep this unzipped,” Rhett growls at him, sounding truly annoyed. At that, Link feels the smallest twitch against Rhett’s hand, a spike of heat as well, and it startles him to realise how _into_ this he must be, this being trapped and used, this being completely without the control he usually harbours.

But he’s not about to admit that, not to Rhett of all people. In times like this, frustration is what sits best with him, not this forced resignation, this embarrassment from being toyed with. It’s why he lashes out the way he does, he knows that much. So that’s what Link goes for now, channels the pool of rage he usually has simmering beneath the surface.

And when Rhett starts tugging at his zipper, it honestly feels like he’s just about to hit boiling point.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” he spits, and Rhett stops, his hands instantly dropping from Link’s pants. His eyes are wide, curious when they meet Link’s again, and for a quick second, Link thinks he might’ve crossed the line.

But he really should’ve known better, and Rhett sidles back up to the wall where Link’s splayed out all for him to enjoy, a sly smile spreading from cheek to cheek. “The fact that you think you got any say in this at all, brother, is frankly hilarious.”

Those hands are back on him before Link has a chance to retort, it’s all happening so quickly now, and with a flick of his fingers, Link’s fly busts open to reveal the damp spot on his briefs. But there’s no time to dwell on the blush flooding his cheeks because he can immediately feel the warmth of Rhett’s breath washing over his skin.

“You can’t tell me you don’t want this,” Rhett says, pressing a firm kiss through the fabric and sounding every bit like a man deprived. “I mean, look at you. You can’t help it.”

It’s only then that Link realises his hips are squirming against Rhett’s touch, chasing some kind of friction he was barely aware he needed. He shifts forward, presses himself into Rhett’s face as firmly as he can manage. And, mercifully, Rhett allows it for a short moment. He nuzzles against him, the scrape of his beard miraculously translating through Link’s confines, before stepping back again to let his hand take over.

“Now, now,” Rhett says, his voice gruff but unsettlingly calm, controlled. With his eyes still closed, Link can only imagine how menacing Rhett must look in the darkness. The image alone makes him writhe, and again he humps forward into Rhett’s palm. “You’re gonna tell me how much you like this, how much you need this.” The more Rhett speaks, the more persistent his hold on Link becomes, and it isn’t long before Link’s straining against his underwear, hard now and aching under the attention.

Link’s voice is shaky when he finds it again. “Or else what?”

Rhett scoffs. “You know as well as I do how much you’ve wanted this. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Link swallows hard, hooked onto Rhett’s every word. He barely notices the fingers hooking into his waistband. “You just didn’t think it’d happen like this. You didn’t think it’d be me lording over you, ‘cause you figured you’d snap one day, catch me up in the loft or something, push me up against a wall with nobody around and fuck me then and there, didn’t you?” Rhett’s sudden vulgarity pushes a moan out of him, the visual coming at him thick and fast. Rhett’s got a hold on him now, grasp firming up the further into the fantasy he delves. “You thought it’d be you sinking into me, inch by inch, me begging you to give me all you’ve got, _I need you_ , just take me, ride me, _fuckin’ do me already_.”

Link’s imagining it now in the most vibrant detail, Rhett’s back blotched red in the muted light of their loft, muscles flexing with the exertion, his hands framing Rhett’s where they’ve got a death grip on the railing overlooking their office space, his jaw set as he takes what he needs from Rhett – because he’s right, of course he is, this would’ve been all about himself, about his impatience, about being selfish and needy and not being able to take the silence when they used to be _so_ close, they used to make time specifically for each other _without fail_ , and then it was all being swept aside under the duress of their work and the constant spotlight and their growing business. When did they let this happen? When did it all become so much that it wasn’t about them anymore, that they somehow lost sight of each other along the way?

At least now it seems Rhett’s making up for lost time, not wanting to waste any more of it. He shoves his lips over Link’s length, cheeks hollowing when Link’s in place, and god, it’s only when he hits the back of Rhett’s throat and keeps going that Link wakes to himself again, to this reality where Rhett’s back and he’s back, both of them back where they belong, where they belong _together_. He’s missed this, he lets the thought rush forth now, he’s missed this _so fucking much_ , even his pride isn’t so much that he can’t admit that now, that he can’t hold it back any longer, not when Rhett’s so thoroughly nailed it on the head.

“Please, _fuck_ , I need you,” Link babbles, straight-up whining at the slide of his dick against Rhett’s tongue. He lets himself look now, lets himself take in the sight Rhett working him over, wanting nothing more but to reach out and touch. “I need more, _please_ , I need –”

They hear a rip, and Rhett pulls off, startled, long enough for Link to follow his line of sight to the damage he himself has rendered. Somehow he’s managed to tear his forearm away from the panel, managed to break the glue’s bond apart, and honestly Link doesn’t remember struggling that much, so lost in the moment he was that his own strength surpassed him yet again.

“Was I right, Link?” Rhett’s voice brings him straight back. The man looks utterly debauched, hair wild and lips a shiny deep pink, his icy exterior now broken. His voice rasps, barely above a whisper. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Link whispers back. What would be the point in hiding it now? No front he could put up would ever fool Rhett of all people. “All this time, god, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too, bo.”

It’s cool relief against a blistering burn, to hear the truth of those words finally fall from Rhett’s lips, to know he wasn’t alone in his suffering all this time.

But his moment of bliss is short-lived because Rhett’s got a grip on him once more, pumping him lightly, slowly, steady enough to bring him back to the brink. “Let’s finish this for now, continue it later – don’t wanna leave you hanging when the crew comes back from their break now, do we?”

The pun’s right there, but it’s overshadowed by the dark look flashing across Rhett’s face, enough to spur Link’s fury back into play. “Come on, Rhett,” he taunts, echoing Rhett’s impression of him from earlier. “Fuck me already. Show me what you got.”

Rhett leans in and slathers a glob of saliva down Link’s length. He jerks him once, twice before sending up a smirk. “There’s my man.”

And with that, he throws himself back into it, takes Link entirely back in his mouth in one lightning-quick move, basically fucking his own face down on him, no longer giving a shit to suck or lick or anything. Link’s got no choice but take it, grits his teeth before letting loose a snarl, a shaking scream, because this is building into something he has no chance of keeping inside him, he’s gotta let this out, gotta let Rhett know what he’s doing is the _best fucking thing_ , and eventually, with a drawn-out groan and another audible rip from his other forearm, Link spills himself down Rhett’s throat, allows the constriction around him to leave its lasting impression.

The comedown settles over him quickly, as he watches Rhett shuffle backward through half-lidded eyes, watches him drag the back of his hand over his mouth. Rhett cracks a smile when he catches Link looking.

“Gosh, brother,” he says, unbridled awe on his face when he looks over his handiwork. “Let’s get you lookin’ right before someone comes in.”

By the time the door swings open, Rhett’s only just got Link tucked away and zipped back up. Thankfully there isn’t much else to fix, the majority of the damage obscured by Link’s suit and helmet. When the first of the crew retakes their position, Rhett’s sliding a hand back through his hair as he turns for the desk.

“Rhett?” Link whispers as the first of the crew approaches. He knows what he wants to ask, doesn’t want to wait until later, whenever later will be. He needs the reassurance now, the confirmation that they’ll be okay – but he can’t do it here, not now that they’re no longer alone. So instead, with a sinking heart, he lands on, “How do I look?”

But Rhett must hear it anyway, the truth behind his question reaching his eyes as they soften at him, and he reaches up to pat him on the belly. To anyone else, it’s nothing out of the ordinary, but Link knows.

“Never better, bo.”

And that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm down if you need to yell at me. I welcome it, actually. Happy to take it in the form of kudos in fact, if you're cool with that. <3


End file.
